Patience Is A Virtue
by Miss Misled-Bloodshed
Summary: Nny is having a tough morning, and waiting for caffeine isn't going to help. ONE SHOT.


**So I have a new fandom.**

**Our dear Nny. :3**

**The last time I wrote about a fandom while hardly even being in it for a month, it turned out pretty bad. So I think I will go read some comics for Nny, and then I will come back.**

**I'm back, and I did some art too. Check out my DeviantArt on my profile if you want to see one of them.**

**I own nothing.**

* * *

Nny was stumped.

He'd been sitting here for about an hour, pencil in his hand, creativity switched on, and yet nothing came to mind. The paper was clean and white, except for a couple of smudged bloodstains here and there. Hey, the artist he had got it from put up a struggle! She was a strong one too.

He sat surrounded by his favourite things, which had accumulated to one thing at a time every time he gave up for 5 minutes. The goal was for them to give him inspiration for his art, even though he preferred to draw Happy Noodle Boy rather than still life. That kind of thing was for Devi. He didn't really like drawing objects, especially not flowers or toys. And if they were, the flowers would be saturated in blood and writhing in agony and the toys would be slashing their owner's throat. Not to mention they would feature in a Happy Noodle Boy comic. So...yeah, he was indifferent to still life and such.

He sighed and put down his pencil for what must have been the 7 millionth time that morning. He reached for a pen and his Die-ary and opened to a new page.

'_Dear Die-ary,_

_I find myself writing in you solely for the comfort of writing in something. My artistic prowess has been...paused all morning. And I know that this is the one place I feel like I can write anything in the beautiful human language, English, forming symbols on paper that I wonder if I am the only one who sees them like I do. Psychodoughboy and Mr Eff can't find me in here, I think, so for now I'm safe from my other halves. __That last statement was probably mathematically incorrect. But I'm too idle to correct myself._

_Also, I think some of my hair is starting to grow back again. It's about time.*_

_I tried to play another recorded message to Devi this morning. Needless to say it failed miserably. I am deaf in one ear for now._

_Hm. I find myself low on caffeine. I think I'm starting to hallucinate. That or the blood running from my ear has gone back inside to my eyes. If that is possible. They both connect, anyway. I think. Jeez, I **am** low on caffeine. Time to fill up.'_

Nny shut his book and put it back in its hiding place. He massaged his temples and got up, brushing himself off and grabbing his coat and a bit of change from the tabletop. He was feeling the effects of his all night killing spree and his man-to-boy talk with Squee. Caffeine was a wonderful substitute for sleep. Although the after-effects were messy.

Approximately 10 minutes later he got to Cafe Le Prick. He vowed to never go back there after the cigarette incident but it was Sunday and everywhere else was closed, as well as too well off to open on Sundays. Cafe Le Prick needed the service.

Nny opened the cafe door and immediately gritted his teeth. The line was enormous. It curled all around the shop, weaving between the tables and crowding the whole cafe. He almost turned back, considering getting an energy drink or something from the market or something. But he was getting more tired every second, and the market was ages away. He would just have to suck it up.

But then he thought, who the fuck am I?

There were no children in the cafe, the dense cigarette smoke was too thick. Good. He was a stone cold killer, but he could never kill a child. Every time he passed one in the street, he saw Squee's face. If he ever did kill a child, Psychodoughboy would be triumphant, and Johnny would be dead.

He pulled out his trusty mini-machete and looked for a starting point. Hmmm. There was a trashy woman talking too loud into a cell phone not too far away. He decided to start there.

By this time a couple of people had already noticed his machete and yelled out, but by that time Johnny had already started. Screams cut through conversations like knives on skin-literally-and body parts flew on the walls with epic splats. Blood circled around Nny's feet as he chop-chop-chopped through the masses of ignorant bundles of cells and organisms. All the while he hummed 'Ode to Joy' to himself.

When he was finished, he looked around and spotted a shaking employee holding a paper bag and steaming cup of coffee. Mocha, by the smell of it. Johnny wiped his machete on the cleanest dead person nearest him and smiled at the trembling employee, before taking the bag and cup. And with that, he strolled out of the shop. Excited, not because he wouldn't be tired for much longer, but for one other reason:

This had just given him a great idea for Happy Noodle Boy.

* * *

***Just because I think I preferred Nny's old hair before he died.**

**Does the end scene remind you of something? Here's a clue... ba-ba-ba, ba-ba-banana.**

**Do you like my *stab* (Geddit? Cause it's Johnny, and he's stabbing...? Oh vey, tough crowd.) at humour? Or the fic in general? **

**Drop a review and I will see you next time!**

***cue snazzy exit***


End file.
